Bitter
by SGAFan
Summary: John really needed to get away for a day, but what happened wasn't what he had in mind. One shot written for the Gateworld Whump Challenge prompt at end Set in season 4 between Lifeline and Reunion.


**Bitter**

The rumble of thunder in the distance was ominous and fit the storm of conflict surging inside him. John staggered, barely catching himself and in spite of his stubborn tenacity, he took the warning his body was sending him. Finding the nearest tree, he pressed his back against its solid support and carefully slid to the ground, his movements awkward from his backpack. He grimaced a little at the wet cold that seeped through his pants, but the mild discomfort was overshadowed by other things… things that just might kill him.

John looked down at his wound. He'd lost a lot of blood and was starting to feel the effects. Pressing a bandage harder to stem the blood flow and leaning his head back, he took a deep breath. This wasn't over. He still had a long night ahead of him.

Instantly, he regretted the deep breath as it sent shocks of pain through his chest. Grunting, he shallow breathed for a minute before tensing and pressing his bandage even tighter into his left side. He looked down again, focusing on the red that stained his hands. _Wish I had another bandage. _He tried to ignore the raw pain. He'd brought a day pack and some first aid supplies but the worst he'd expected to get was a blister, not nearly eviscerated by a wild animal. If this kept up, he'd have to take a chapter from Ronon's book and cannibalize is t-shirt. His thoughts lingered for a moment on his teammate.

"_Should go with you." Ronon ambled alongside John as he headed for the Jumper Bay._

"_No," John refused to look at his friend._

"_You shouldn't go alone, Sheppard." _

_"Well, I am." _

"_Sheppard…"_

John spun on Ronon. "No!" He closed his eyes for a moment, and drew in a loud breath through his nose. "Just… no." Without waiting for a response, he hastily walked away, noticing that Ronon didn't follow.

"Could use your help now, big guy," he muttered. He hadn't meant to snap at Ronon… or Teyla for that matter.

"_Not even the most experienced of our hunters goes into the wilderness alone." Teyla's voice had no patronizing hints, only concern and a touch of urgency._

_John didn't even break stride. "Not good company now," he answered gruffly, but Teyla wouldn't be deterred. _

"_We have discovered some… formidable predators in the woods that line the mountains."_

_The tension that cramped John's neck and sent the occasional twitch racing up his cheek - a tension he'd carried since __**that**__ day - only deepened. "Teyla," he forced a calm tone to his voice. "I'll have my radio if anything happens, and I'll only be gone a day. Lorne's got things covered on Atlantis. I can leave for a day and things won't fall apart." He stopped walking and looked at her. "Leave it alone. Please."_

_Teyla's eyes moistened just slightly and her voice grew softer. "What happened to Elizabeth was not your fault, John." _

_John literally felt his expression harden, putting a wall between him and his teammate, as he retreated from her words. "The hell it wasn't." _

John keenly felt the self imposed isolation he found himself in. He didn't want to face what had happened, and still didn't. But this morning standing in the doorway of Elizabeth's office, he'd found himself rooted in place. He couldn't walk in, couldn't accept that she wasn't there and that she wouldn't all the sudden come walking in behind him. The memories, as unwanted as they were, surfaced, driving him from Atlantis, from the people he knew. The people that could see through his wall, and right to the pain he could no longer hide. A pain that forced him to process what he'd witnessed, what was burned in his head…

… and forced him to face what he'd left behind.

"_Go!"_

Elizabeth's shout still echoed in his head, and haunted his nearly sleepless nights.

He'd been ten feet away from her, and he'd left her behind.

A mask of strength and determination fell into place the moment Ronon had physically pulled him away from Elizabeth, her scared, yet determined expression burned in his memory. He'd kept a strong face since that day. To everyone around him, he'd held onto the confidence that she was still alive. That he'd find her and bring her back. That everything was going to be okay. He believed it. He had to believe it, or he'd never be able to look at himself in the mirror again. But another part of him, the cold, clinical soldier, knew the odds and knew what the Replicators were capable of. Even if they could find her and rescue her, what would they be bringing back? Would she even be Elizabeth anymore?

Pain flooded him, but it had nothing to do with his wound. His head thumped back against the tree trunk. "Damn it." His legs tingled and the only part of his body that was warm, was his left hand, drenched in his own blood. Teyla'd been right about the predators. The mountain lion… cougar… thing that'd attacked him, had nearly punched his ticket and the blood seeping over his hand, slowly stealing his life, only proved it.

His right hand settled, almost reflexively, on his holstered nine mil. He had one clip left, the other he'd emptied into his attacker, killing it. But he was a long way from the Athosian settlement and the storm, along with the approaching night, were rapidly shrouding the day's light. _Wounded, bleeding and one clip in your sidearm. Nicely done, John._

Shrugging his shoulders, he tried to work his backpack off, but to no avail and he was forced to abandon his wound for a moment, to get out of the pack. He grunted against the pain as he twisted his torso and freed his arms. He set the mangled pack next to him. Deep parallel tears crossed the back of it, reminding John of his attacker. The first salvo had come from behind, knocking him to the ground and, as he shallow breathed through a spike of pain, most likely broke a few ribs. He'd managed to get out from under the predator and roll over, but the damned thing had been on him again, tearing a hole in his side, before he'd been able to draw his weapon and kill it.

John returned his left hand to his soaked bandage and retrieved his water canteen with his right. He held it between his knees and unscrewed the top before taking one, long sip.

He reflexively jumped as a loud crack of thunder echoed around him. On its heels the skies opened up, sending down torrents of rain that echoed off the broad canopy of leaves above him. He took a moment to be thankful he'd made it to the few trees that were scattered around the scraggly rocky foothills he'd been climbing when he'd been attacked. Enough rain got through the leaves above him, to make him miserable and even colder, adding to the bone deep chill from blood loss. _Climbing hell,_ he admitted bitterly, thinking about his day up until the attack. Deep scratches lined his hands and though their discomfort was overshadowed by his injuries, his body bore the brunt of bruises and strains from the exertion. He hadn't meant to beat himself up like that… or maybe, subconsciously, he had.

Movement caught his eye and he tensed, only to relax as a small squirrel came around the tree and froze, its big eyes fixed on him. The creature's resemblance to an Earth squirrel was uncanny, from its pointed nose to its bushy tail. Wry amusement drove John's words. "I'm sure I feel as bad as I look," he said quietly. His words were all that the squirrel needed to decide running was the best option. In a flash, it was gone apparently deciding the storm and the rain were safer than John.

He let his head settle against the tree again as he weighed his options. He was overdue to return to the settlement and if he knew Teyla, and after almost four years he liked to think that he did, she'd have the Athosians out looking for him, especially if she couldn't reach him on the radio. That had been the second victim of the cat's attack, right after his ribs and broken on the same chunk of rocks he'd nearly face-planted on. He could stay where he was, and hope they found him, or continue making his way towards the settlement, increasing the odds that they'd find him faster. That seemed to be the better option, but he wondered for a moment if he had the strength to do it. John sighed as the tingling in his feet, moved up his legs. As he slowly bled out in the woods, alone, he wondered if he wanted to even try.

John closed his eyes, the rain numbing him and driving away his pain. He was the military commander. It'd always been his place to take the risks, to put his life on the line for the city and everyone on it. That was his job. Elizabeth's job was to be on Atlantis when he got back, sometimes to even make sure that he did actually get back, to tell him to not take so many chances, and ask him to try to be more diplomatic in the future. A small hint of a smile pulled at one side of his mouth.

"_Next time, Major, please wear the ridiculous headdress, and act like it's the highest honor in the galaxy. We need the allies." Elizabeth fought a smile, and lost. _

John's smile lingered. Her amusement that day had drained all of his indignant anger at being shot at for not putting a butt ugly gourd headdress on when asked. He hadn't wounded or killed anyone escaping, but he'd been tempted, more than once.

His smile faded. It was a cruel irony in this damned galaxy that after risking his life more times than he could count, always accepting that one day he'd take one too many risks, it was her that'd been sacrificed, leaving him behind to pick up the pieces in a city that mourned the loss.

Fate was a malicious bastard sometimes.

John inhaled sharply, forcing his eyes open as somewhere deep inside, a reservoir of strength fueled him. He'd bucked fate before, and he'd buck it again, not only because he'd never quit anything in his life, but because if there was one, damned chance in the galaxy that Elizabeth was alive, he'd bring her back so she could once again lecture him on diplomacy, while staunchly supporting him against the IOA, at every turn.

Holding his hand firmly against his side, he pushed himself to his feet, the task a titanic battle between his weakening body and his unconquerable determination. In the end, the determination won, but he figured he'd better not sit down again, unless someone was there to help him back to his feet. John grabbed his pack, barely managing to sling it over his shoulder, all the while ignoring the effort it took to lift such a light day pack.

He staggered out from under the slight protection of the tree, blinking against the torrents of rain that sheeted down, driven almost horizontal from the wind. He lowered his head, doggedly making his way towards the settlement, his trek slow in the growing darkness.

He had no way to measure time. He could've been walking for two minutes or two hours when suddenly, a pair of hands strongly grabbed onto him from behind, holding him on his feet as his knees buckled.

"Peace Colonel Sheppard. I have you."

John's mind latched onto the deep, supportive voice. "Halling?" he managed. He looked up into the tall Athosian man's face, lit by flickering torchlight.

"Yes, Colonel," Halling relieved John of his pack and slung the freed arm over his shoulder. "Tents!" he shouted, and only then did John become aware of the scuffle of people around him.

"John?" Teyla's voice was as gentle as she carefully removed his left hand from his wound, replacing it with her hands and a thick bandage. "You will be all right. I have called Atlantis. The storm is starting to pass and a jumper will be here soon. We will care for you in the meantime."

Another Athosian came up behind him and threw a thick dry cloak over John, shielding him from the rain. John knew his sense of time was skewed at the moment, but he was still surprised how quickly the search party had erected several hunting tents.

Halling and Teyla helped John inside one of the tents and eased him to the floor, the wet ground shielded by a thick floor covering and a warm, fur pelt. Immediately, he was stripped of his soaked shirt and pants, and several dry furs were laid over him as Halling tended his wound.

"He has lost much blood," Halling commented quietly.

"I'll… be okay," John answered, trying to sound confident. He met gazes with Halling who nodded, his expression reassuring.

"Yes, you will, my friend," Halling answered.

John turned his head the other way, finding Teyla's concerned gaze. "Teyla," he whispered.

She smiled. "Rest," she urged.

John drew in as deep a breath as he could. "I… I'm sorry," he said, trying to figure out how to tell her what he was sorry for. Sorry for not listening? For snapping at her? For losing Elizabeth? He decided, regrettably, that it was a little of all of them.

But Teyla only held her smile and after a moment, he felt her small, warm hand grip his cold one. "You have nothing to be sorry for, John," she answered.

He stared at her and in her eyes he saw the depth of her understanding. No explanation was needed.

Teyla squeezed his hand again. "Rest," she repeated, "you will be fine now."

Nodding, John let his eyes fall shut, though he staunchly held onto consciousness and yet he was still startled when McKay's loud voice sounded from just above him.

"What were you thinking?"

John cracked open his eyes and returned Rodney's irritated look with the best cocky one he could muster. "That I should… try to inconvenience you… today, Rodney," he answered.

"Congratulations, you succeeded," Rodney shot back.

"Rodney," Doctor Keller's voice interjected. "Be a good boy and don't upset the patient, otherwise, you're welcome to leave."

"I'm not upsetting him," Rodney answered, his voice still indignant. "If I didn't yell at him, he'd think something was really wrong."

"He's right," Ronon's deep voice answered simply. He stared John in the eyes. "Told you I should've come with you."

John's smile was lazy as fatigue pulled at him and his eyelids drooped. "Point… taken," he whispered.

"Go ahead, Colonel, sleep," Keller's voice turned soft and reassuring. "You're going to be fine. You don't have to fight it anymore."

John managed a small nod and let his eyes close. Somewhere inside, the hard pain of losing Elizabeth still lingered and he knew in some ways, it would always be there. But countering it was the strong, quiet presence of his friends, their support bolstering him. He took as deep a breath as he could manage, and exhaled slowly, letting the fight leave his body and he smiled, just a little, before surrendering to unconsciousness.

**PROMPT: **Finish this prompt.  
>Sheppard looked down at his wound. He had lost a lot of blood and was starting to feel the effects. Pressing a bandage harder to stem the blood flow and leaning his head back, he took a deep breath. This wasn't over. He still had a long night ahead of him.<p>

Story must include any 3 of the following elements..  
>A) Thunderstorm<br>B) Injured team mate  
>C) Small animal<br>D) Donuts  
>E) The line.. "what were you thinking?"<p> 


End file.
